Hating Dear Old Mum and Dad
by Before the Sun Sets
Summary: When their parents decide to come and ‘help their children get back on track’, the bohos are reminded why they moved to New York in the first place. And it only gets worse from there. Slightly AU, Angel lives! Canon couples! [rated to be very safe]
1. Cohen, Davis, Marquez

**Disclaimer:** I don't own, I RENT.

**Summary:** When their parents decide to come and 'help their children get back on track', the bohos are reminded why they moved to New York in the first place. And it only gets worse from there. Slightly AU, Angel lives! Canon couples!

**A/N:** So, this plot bunny has been bouncing around in my head for a while. No, I haven't abandoned my other fics, chill. I just needed to get this one going so the inspiration for the others could start flowing too. This will be a multi-chaptered fic. As a note, any _speaking in italics and "quotes" is in Spanish._

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"January 17th, 1991, 1 pm, Eastern Standard Time. I'm standing on the fire escape outside our loft, looking out at the city. Or, should I say the smog that hangs over it? Oh well. Down on the street, we can see Angel drumming down on the corner." The camera panned to view the loft. "Inside, you can see Roger, playing his guitar, as usual. I wonder why they're sitting on the counter… Anyway, Mimi's sitting next to him and, judging by the smile on both of their faces, I'm guessing he's playing Your Eyes. Mimi and Angel both have made excellent recoveries, and it seems life is getting back to normal. Wait… our life is never normal."

With a light chuckle to end his narration, Mark slowly lowered the camera, the familiar rattle-buzz coming to a stop as his finger found the button and gently pressed. He sighed, turning back to the city view to give his friends some privacy, since they had a tendency to start making out after Roger sang that particular song.

He leaned on the cold railing, looking down at the street below. From her corner, Angel waved to him as she packed up her drumming stuff and headed home to meet Collins. Mark smiled and waved back; it was nice to see her in good health.

"Look, it's Mark! Marky, look down here!"

Mark froze. Only two people called him Marky on a regular basis (plus Roger when he was trying to be annoying). It couldn't be Maureen, because she was off shopping with Joanne, and they wouldn't be back until seven, for sure.

That left…

"Mom?" he squeaked in a ridiculously high-pitched voice, looking down with a growing sense of dread.

Sure enough, Ms. Cohen was standing down on the street, waving cheerily at him. "Hi Mark! We came to visit!" She pointed to a few other people next to her, but Mark had already fled back into the loft.

"ROGER!" he yelled, slamming the window shut behind him. The songwriter grudgingly pulled his lips from Mimi's and turned to face his friend.

"What is it, Cohen?" Mark knew that Roger was annoyed, since he had used the filmmaker's last name, but there were more pressing matters at the moment.

"Our parents!" He glanced towards the window, like they might've magically learned to fly and would be landing on the fire escape any second.

"Yeah? What about em?"

"They're here!"

Roger nearly fell off the counter. "WHAT?" He leapt up, setting his guitar down on the counter, and ran over to lock the door. "Since when??"

"About two minutes ago!" Mark's eyes were wild, his skin even paler than usual. There was a good REASON why he'd moved to New York, especially after his mom had tried to set him up marrying Nanette Himmelfarb! She was nice and all, and a really great tangoer, but, come on, they were only seventeen!

Mimi just sat on the counter, an amused smile playing across her lips. "Don't you think you guys are overreacting a _little_? They're just parents."

Roger spun to her, running over and giving her a small kiss before pushing her towards the window. "Go back to your loft for a little while, okay? My father is a _tiny_ bit crazy, and I'd rather not get into a discussion on our relationship."

Mimi sighed exasperatedly. "Fine. See you guys later, when you've calmed down." Ushered now by Mark, she stepped out the window onto the fire escape. The filmmaker could hear her high-heeled boots clicking on the stairs as he half-fell over the railing. Their parents were nowhere to be seen.

"They're… gone?" he muttered, relieved. But this feeling was short lived, as there was a knock on the door a moment later.

"Mark? I know you're there! It's Mom! Open up!"

Mark and Roger groaned simultaneously. The songwriter walked slowly to the door, looking like a condemned man on his way to his execution. As soon as he'd turned the lock, the door slid open of it's own accord. "Hi Ms. Cohen…" he muttered, stepping back.

Mark's mother stepped through the door, a sugary-sweet smile on her face. "MARKY!" she caught her son in a tight hug. Mark could've sworn he heard something in his back crack.

He wormed his arm free and reluctantly hugged her back, just the ghost of an embrace. "Hi Mum… um…. Nice to see you?"

He patted her awkwardly on the head, which only came up to his chest. Had she always been this small?

Finally she released him, walking off around the loft. Mark let out a sigh of relief, only to be pulled into a half-hug/clap-on-the-back by his father. An "oof" sound escaped the filmmaker's scrawny frame as his father's hand connected with his back.

Following Mark's parents were the Davises, his quiet and kindly mother, and his big, brusque, former-rock-star father.

"Roger!" he boomed, clapping his son on the back so hard that he stumbled forwards into a soft hug from his mother.

Everyone's attention turned to Ms. Cohen as she started bombarding Mark with questions. "Why haven't you been answering your phone? Did you find another girlfriend? Do you still talk with Maureen? Have you met her new girlfriend? Are you making new friends? How's your job going? Made any more films lately? How about—"

She was interrupted by the phone ringing, then the familiar "SPEEEEEEAAAAAAAK."

"Mark Cohen? Alexi Darling, calling about…"

The rest of it was drowned out as Mark's mom turned to her son, face lit up with excitement. "Ooh! Honey, this Alexi, is she your new girlfriend?"

Roger couldn't help but snicker at the dumbfounded look on his friend's face. Mark opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking distinctly fish-like, then just shook his head.

"I need to use the bathroom," he said in an oddly calm voice, then fled quickly to the safety of a porcelain cruise.

_Thanks a lot, Cohen…_ Roger glared at the closed bathroom door as he felt eight eyes turn on him.

"Roger!" The way his father's booming voice echoed off the hard walls of the Loft sounded kind of like that weird mike at Maureen's protest. "What about you? Did you get a new job? Find a new girlfriend? It's so sad, really, about June…."

"April!" Roger corrected, clenching his fists.

"Right, whatever."

"I'm concentrating on my songwriting." Roger answered evasively, hoping they'd just let the matter drop.

The good news; they didn't inquire further. The bad news; that meant the discussion moved on to Roger's love life. "So, what about a girlfriend then?"

The songwriter glanced almost longingly at the fire escape, then answered shortly. "Yes."

His mom asked the next question. "What's her name?"

"And her job?" His father boomed.

Roger scratched the back of his neck, thinking quickly. "Mimi, and she's a dancer."

His father pondered this for a moment before nodding, as if he'd deemed his son's girlfriend acceptable. "Where is this Mimi?"

"She went home for a while." Roger answered smoothly, conveniently leaving out the fact that 'home' was right downstairs.

Anything further that might have been said was derailed by the sound of a toilet flushing. Mark emerged from the bathroom a moment later, looking a tiny bit calmer.

Mr. Cohen glanced around the room, then said in his annoying, phone-operator-like voice, "This place is a pigsty! How do you two find /anything/ when you need it?"

Mark answered without thinking. "Oh, well that's easy. The food and drink are in the kitchen, and Roger's guitar is on the counter, and I have my camera…" he trailed off as his parents traded incredulous looks, paling again.

Roger jumped in. "What he means is that everything important is easy to find, if you know where to look." Their parents nodded slowly, the incredulous looks fading slightly. Mark gave his best friend a 'how-do-you-do-that?' look, and Roger returned it with his famous 'I'm-Roger-I-can-do-anything' look.

"You still need to clean this place up, though. There's old junk everywhere." Mark's mom wrinkled her nose, poking one of the piles of junk with her foot.

Mr. Cohen glanced at his watch. "Oh, we need to go check into our hotel. We'll come by again tonight; we can all go out for dinner!"

"Oh, joy…" Mark said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. He swore he could hear whistling as it whizzed right over his dad's head.

"See you then!" His mother called cheerfully, sliding the door shut behind them.

Roger sank onto the couch. "Shit."

Mark collapsed beside him. "I second that."

_**Meanwhile, downstairs…**_

Mimi came in through her window-door and closed it gently behind her, kicking off her boots. She'd just settled onto the couch when there was a knock on the door.

"Roger?" she wondered aloud, walking over and opening the door.

"Mimi chica!" Ms. Marquez threw her arms around her daughter, pulling the shocked dancer into a hug.

"_Mom? What are you doing here?"_ Before her mother could answer, she was pulled into another hug by her father.

"_We came by to see how you were doing!"_ her mother answered, a cheery grin on her face.

Mimi forced a smile._"How nice. How long can you stay?"_

"_As long as needed!"_ Her father proclaimed, _"Isn't that great?"_

"Wonderful…" Mimi answered in English, knowing the sarcasm would be lost on them in a foreign tongue.

They stepped through the door, Mimi just smiling weakly, not daring to protest. Her mother looked around curiously. _"So, Mimi, got yourself a safe boyfriend?"_

The dancer allowed an awkward silence to fill the room before answering. "Si." All three jumped as a loud beeping filled the apartment. "AZT break…" Mimi muttered, glancing around for her pills.

Her parents looked rather uncomfortable. _"Well, daughter, we'll see you later…"_ Her father said, then they slipped out the door.

Mimi popped a pill into her mouth and swallowed it, not bothering to respond to them. She knew the next visit would probably be harder, since they'd undoubtedly bring up their favorite subject to bitch about; her job at the CatScratch.

She waited until she heard the Cohens and Davises descending the stairs before slipping back up to the Loft.

Walking over to the couch, she plopped ungracefully onto Roger's lap. "Guess what?"

A groan from Mark. "What?"

"My parent's showed up too." Mimi moaned.

All three of them looked from one to the other. Roger ran a hand through his long blond hair. "I'll say it again: shit."

"I second that again."

"I third that."

Mark sat up. "Is that even possible?"

"Who cares?" Roger asked, throwing a pillow at him.

Mimi just shook her head and buried her face in Roger's chest. An almost-tangible air of impending doom filled the loft as the three sat there, lost in their own thoughts.

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_Next chapter: Angel and Collins!_


	2. Total Opposites

**Disclaimer:** I don't own, I RENT.

**A/N:** Thanks for all the great reviews! –cookie to all- This chapter won't be quite as lighthearted as the first, I'll warn you now. Enjoy!

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Angel waved to Mark and strolled off back to her apartment. She whistled a merry tune, thinking of Collins, who was probably already home. He only had one morning class today, so he always got home pretty early.

She bounded up the stairs to their apartment, newly-earned coins jangling in her jacket pocket.

"Collins?" she called as she opened the door, dropping her tub off to one side. She pried off her sneakers with her toes, sock feet padding silently on the hard floor as she went into the living room.

A mischievous grin spread across her face as she spotted Collins lying on the couch. The TV was blaring, but the professor was currently engrossed in his newest book.

Angel crept up silently to the end of the couch by his feet. _3… 2... 1…_

"GOTCHA!!!" she yelled, pouncing over the arm of the couch onto his chest. Collins let out a surprised "argh!", dropping his book over the edge of the couch.

Angel gave him a catlike grin, repeating, "Gotcha!"

Collins waited for his pounding heart to slow down again before laughing and nodding. "Mmhmm, you did. And now for your prize!" He pulled her up further, capturing her lips in a long kiss.

Angel eventually pulled away, smile even wider now. "Honey, I need to go change, okay?" she plucked at her t-shirt, then hopped up and skipped off to the bedroom to find her favorite skirt. Collins laughed again, settling back on the couch and picking his book up again.

The book hit the floor with a _thud_ as a loud knock on the door sounded through the apartment, startling him. He picked the book up, set it on the coffee table, and went to go answer the door.

"What the hell do you want???" he demanded as soon as he saw who it was. His parents had basically disowned him as soon as they found out he was gay; why would they come here?

His father adjusted his tie uncomfortably. "We're not allowed to look in on our only son after seven years?"

Collins eyed them. "I thought you decided you didn't have a son."

Ms. Collins coughed awkwardly. "Yes, well, we're sorry about that, dear." She wrung her hands for a moment. "Can we come in?"

The professor glared at them for another moment, then turned and walked away ungraciously, leaving the door open. His parents traded an exasperated glance, then cautiously stepped over the threshold.

Collins plopped onto the couch, staring pointedly at the flickering TV. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, his father made an effort to start a conversation. "So, you're teaching?"

"Yep."

"Where?"

"NYU."

"What subject?"

"Philosophy."

"Ah…" They lapsed into silence for another moment, then his mother gave it a try. "So, are you… um… seeing anyone?"

Collins's shoulders de-tensed a tiny bit at the very thought of her. "Yes, I am."

His father took a deep breath. "Can… can we meet… him?"

Abruptly, Collins stood up and headed back to the bedroom. "I'll go get her. Wait here." His parents exchanged another glance; _her?_

Angel was just fixing her black bob wig on her head when Collins came in. "Oh, hi honey!" She frowned at the tense expression on his face, turning around to face him fully. "What's wrong?"

Collins sighed deeply. "My parents. They just showed up out of nowhere a minute ago, and now they want to meet you…"

Angel furrowed her eyebrows. "Didn't they…?" she remembered something Collins had told her a while back, when she'd asked why his parents never called.

"Yeah, but apparently they've changed their minds." He walked over to Angel and enfolded her in a hug. "Baby, please remember this; no matter what they may say, I love you."

"I love you, too," she replied, planting a gentle kiss on his lips.

Collins was comforted by Angel's soft hand in his as they walked back out into the living room. "Mom, Dad, this is Angel."

At first, his mother looked confused. Realization dawned on her as her husband whispered something in her ear, and her face hardened. Angel felt Collins give her hand a light squeeze. She did the same to his, rubbing her thumb comfortingly back and forth on the back of his hand.

"Thomas, can we speak to you privately?" His father asked stiffly, looking down his nose at Angel.

_They're just like the others…_ Angel mused.

Collins scowled at them, keeping his hold on his lover's hand. "Anything you need to say to me, you can say in front of Angel."

Angel forced a smile. "No, it's okay. I'll go get some lunch ready." Giving Collins's hand one last squeeze, she kissed him lightly on the cheek and headed into the kitchen.

The anarchist crossed his arms over his chest. "What's the problem /now/?"

"You know exactly what the problem is!" Collins was a little startled by the anger and disgust in his father's voice. "It's bad enough that you're… you're…. _queer_, but this?!? You're dating a transvestite, for Pete's sake!"

"It doesn't matter! Whether she's dressed in skirts or a sweatshirt, I love her!" His parents looked taken aback at the passion in his voice.

In the silence that followed, Angel could be very clearly heard rattling around in the kitchen. Collins glared at his parents for another moment, then said in a forcedly calm voice "I think you'd better leave."

His father drew himself up, and, without another word, both of his parents stalked out of the room. The front door closed with a loud _slam_.

Collins slowly relaxed his clenched fists, sensing more than seeing the crescent moon imprints left by his fingernails.

"Collins?"

He turned to see Angel standing in the doorway to the kitchen, fiddling with the hem of her sweater. She gazed at his face for a long moment, and he could see the concern in her expressive brown eyes. "I'm sorry…"

She looked down at the floor, but a moment later, she felt Collins's arms wrap around her. "Never say that. You have nothing to be sorry for, my Angel. Just because my parents are stupid and close-minded doesn't mean you should be ashamed of who you are."

The passionate kiss that followed this was cut short by another knock on the door. Angel reluctantly drew away, padding out into the hall.

"Who's there?" she called as she reached the door, not wanting to have to deal with Collins's parents again.

"Um… we came to see Angel." The answer came back quietly. "We're her parents."

Angel froze, eyes widening. She fled back into the living room, calling "One moment!"

Collins caught her as she came barreling through the door. "Hey, baby, what's wrong?" He felt her bury her face in his chest, something she always did when she was upset.

"My parents…" she mumbled, "They've come too."

Her lover glanced towards the front door. "Do they know?" Angel shook her head. Collins stroked her wig hair gently. "Are you ready to show them?"

Angel paused, then nodded. "Yeah. About time they learned who their _daughter_ really is." A determined look on her face, she marched back to the front door and opened it.

Her parents looked taken aback. "Hello. Does Angel Schunard still live here?" her mother had a polite look that suggested she didn't recognize Angel.

"_Hi Mom, Dad._" Angel greeted them with a cheerful grin, reverting to Spanish.

She had to bite back a laugh at the dumbfounded look on both of their faces. "_Angel? What… what are you wearing??" _her mother asked slowly.

Angel twirled around, showing off her floral skirt. "_Isn't it cute? I made it myself._" She figured, if she acted like it was no big deal, they'd move on. The drag queen saw them exchange a glance, then her mother smiled slightly.

"_Yes, it is cute. You made that?"_

Angel smiled widely, glad they weren't making a big deal out of it. "_Yeah, out of an old shower curtain._" She heard a meaningful cough from the living room, glancing over her shoulder to see Collins poking his head into the hall with a questioning look.

She turned back to her parents, beckoning them with one hand. "_Here, come on in. There's someone I want you to meet."_

The drag queen led her parents through the hall and into the living room, where Collins was on the couch with his nose buried in a book. Angel bit back a laugh; the title was upside-down.

He glanced up from his book, did a double take as if he was surprised to see her parents there, and stood up, setting the book off to one side. Angel stepped over beside him, feeling his arm wrap around her waist in a familiar embrace. "_Mom, Dad, this is my boyfriend, Collins. Tom Collins._" Collins smiled, getting the general idea of what she'd said by the way she'd used his name.

The anarchist leaned down and whispered something to Angel, who immediately whispered back. Collins then put out his hand to shake and said, in halting Spanish, "_Nice to meet you, Mr. and Ms. Schunard._"

Mr. Schunard shook his hand, smiling. "We appreciate the effort, Tom, but I think we're more comfortable speaking in English than you are in Spanish." His voice was heavily accented, but understandable.

Collins chuckled. "Fair enough." He liked Angel's parents already; they seemed much more loose and accepting than his own. "And please, call me Collins. Everybody does."

"So, Collins, where do you work?" Ms. Schunard asked curiously, and Collins was once again struck by the sharp contrast between these people and his parents.

"I teach Computer Age Philosophy at NYU." Just then, the clock struck two, making everyone jump.

"Oh! We have to go, our hotel room is only held for us until two-thirty!" Angel walked her parents to the door, agreeing to meet them for dinner at the Life around six thirty.

The Schunards were about to walk off down the hall when Angel asked quietly. "_So you're okay with this? With me?"_

Her mother gave her a warm hug. "_Of course, sweetie. If you're happy, me and your father are happy"_

Mr. Schunard nodded his agreement. "_You're our son… I mean, daughter, and you shouldn't be ashamed of who you are, especially around your parents._"

"_Collins said the same thing a little while ago._" Angel laughed lightly.

Her father winked. "_I think I like this Collins. He seems like a wise man._" With a cheery wave, he and Ms. Schunard headed off down the hall.

Angel stood there watching them for a moment, an unshakable smile on her face. She finally turned and went back inside to spend some quality time with Collins before they went to meet her parents.

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_I couldn't make everyone's parents mean, now could I? How likely is that? Besides, I have big plans for confrontations between the Schunards and the Collins's. BIG plans. Next chapter will be Maureen and Joanne, which should prove interesting… Leave a /constructive/ review, please! If you liked it, tell me why. If you didn't, tell me why not. Stuff to improve on, etc. Thanks!_


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